


Home(?)

by Crimson_Owl



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Alfred gets that redemption arc he needs too, Alternate Ending, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bruce Wayne is a Bad Parent, Bruce really is bad, Damian Lives, Damian Wayne Needs a Hug, Dark Dick Grayson, Dick Grayson Needs a Hug, Dick Grayson is Nightwing, Dick gets his redemption arc, Eventual Happy Ending, Everyone Needs A Hug, Everyone lives except___, Gen, Good Grandparent Alfred Pennyworth, How Do I Tag, Jason Todd Needs A Hug, Spoilers!, Tim Drake Needs a Hug, Tim Lives, eventually, he will realise it later, the boys just need that hug, will add more tags later
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-05
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:47:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26837689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crimson_Owl/pseuds/Crimson_Owl
Summary: Alternate ending to 'Behind the Curtain' where Dick gets his redemption arc.That's pretty much it.
Comments: 10
Kudos: 37





	1. In which Tim does not die

**Author's Note:**

  * For [RichardGraysonPercyJackson](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RichardGraysonPercyJackson/gifts).



Dick's knife is dangerously close to Tim's throat.

"Don't let me do this to you Tim." Dick smirked in spite of himself. He didn't really mean it. Some tears are begining to pool out of Tim's eyes as he shook his head slowly, not daring to believe that Dick, their _brother_ , would do this to them.

"Dick...Please..."

_"Please...don't hurt me!" Jason scrambled back in fright._

_"Why not?" He asks, "Why anything at all?_

_"Because...because...Ugh, just forget it! Just, just go away, please? You're scaring me." Dick thought Jason was cute. Or was it because Jason sparked something with in him? Jason said Dick was scaring him. That felt wrong. Dick just wanted to listen to what the voices said, he, he didn't want to scare anyone._

_"Hey, hey shhh Little Wing...There's nothing to be scared of." Jason opened his eyes slowly and eyed Dick skeptically._

_"Are you sure?"_

_"Yes."_

__

The knife clattered on to the floor, it's sound echoing across the manor. Dick looked at Tim, eyes clear.

"Do as I say, and you might live."

Dick brought the knife down.

00000000

Dick had to be quick about it. His head is begining to hurt, a small voices bugging him every now and then, 

"Kill him"

"Why didn't you kill him?"

No, he could handle himself, Bruce wouldn't _dare_ kill him, wouldn't he? He opened the cup board, rummaging through his supplies.

There! He grinned in contempt, picking up the blood bag. He spilt in onto the floor and on to his body. It was only now that he gagged at the scent of blood. He held his knife, ready. He nodded at Tim, who was also covered in the sticky crimson substance. He knew that Tim knew how to stop his pulse for 60 seconds. Bruce tought them to do it, after all. Dick took a deep breath, bracing himself.

Bruce barges into the room. 

00000000000

“I told you to kill him, not take a bath in his blood.” Bruce looked at him disaprovingly. Dick shrugged. He did the job, does it really matter how?

“You made a mess for Alfred, of course it matters.” Huh. He must've said it outloud. Oh well. He sighed again.

"Most of the blood’s on me, relax. There’s hardly any in the room.”

“Dick, who does the laundry?”

Dick thought about the laundry Alfred had to do and it was all just a bag of blood. “Sorry,” he murmured.

“Don’t apologize to me, apologize to Alfred,” Bruce lectured. “Now go change and shower.”

“Yes sir.”

Bruce watched Dick head for the door before calling, “Dick?”

“Yes.”

“Damian?”

Dick paused slightly.

“Dead by the end of the weekend if he doesn’t stop investigating despite Tim’s disappearance.”

“Good.”

Dick was about to breathe when Bruce turned, but then the man turned around, causing his breath to hitch sligthly.

“Good job with Tim. Go sit with Jason. I’m worried. His fever hasn’t gone down in the last few hours.”

“Shouldn’t we take him to the hospital?” Dick asked, frowning.

“Dick, you just killed someone,” Bruce pointed out. “Taking Jason to the hospital runs a risk of someone discovering.”

“Oh.”

“Look, I promise that if Jason doesn’t get better by next week, we’ll take him to the hospital.”

Dick regarded Bruce for a momment, but he nodded nonetheless. “Okay,” he finally replied. “Thanks, B.”

“Of course, Dick. No problem.”

Bruce smirked to himself.

_One down, three to go ._

0000000000

Dick woke Tim up later, the boy terrifyingly scurrying away from him. He frowned even more.

"Tim. I'm sorry."

Tim tried restraining himself, but,

"Really? Sorry? Is that all you can say? Y-You nearly _killed me_ and all you could say was _sorry_?"

Dick looked at him, blue eyes boring into his soul.

"I could've killed you then, but I _didn't_ I don't _care_ about you and your worthless life." Tim flinched at how uncharacteristically harsh Dick sounded.

But then the strangest thing happened. Dick's expression _softened_ , like genuinely _softened_.

"But my Little Wing is _dying_ , and I know Bruce did this to him." And to his own horror, Dick's voiced cracked slightly at the end. It sounded so heartbroken Tim wanted to believe it.

"We'll discuss this later. Get some rest." Dick shuffled away from Tim, leaving him alone with his thoughts.


	2. Curiosity Symptoms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Since when was Dick schizophrenic again? Oh yeah. Always has been.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Chapter name taken from Fran Bow)
> 
> Also, I had to do I _bunch_ of research on schizophrenic behaviour since Dick has it, so at least please appreciate the effort.

Dick was five when he had first heard someone talking.

"What happens when you stab someone? How much blood will leak?" Dick would turn around, confused, because, well, someone _had_ to have said it. He questions mom, because if anyone had to know, it's her.

"It's just me, you and your father here Dick." Dick shrugged it of, maybe that person just left. The person never really left, though. They just lingered around, suggesting things every once in a while. Bad things. Dick ignores them, still. He can't help but think that the person must be really good at hiding. Dick never could seem to find them. They didn't really do anything to him, so Dick just sees them as a friend, as he always does. 

He's six when the voices becomes noises. It's been a couple of nights in France and he keeps hearing rats chatter. He didn;t tell his mother about this, but one day while practicing, the rat chatters suddenly began to screech. He fell mid air, clutching his head. His parents ran forward, concerned, he tried to look at them, but the screeching was so loud it tainted the edges of his vision red. He ran to his room, hands griping his head like a life line. His parents were _very_ concerned, but in the end? They bought him some migrain pills, hoping that it would ease the pain. He didn't really tell them how the never actually taught him how to drink pills, or that he was pretty sure that wasn't a migrain, but he stayed silent.

For months after that he just silently watched as other children played. The screeching died down, but he thinks he'll remember it for a while.

He was eight, when he had his first episode. 

He just had dinner. Tonight was going to be a big night for his family. He watched silently behind the curtains (That was a pun. You can laugh now.) as a ridiculous man who calls himself Tony Zucco threatens his family. His parents brushed it of, but he knew better. Then, after that he was hit by another wave of screeching, which faded out into a dull ring in his head. His hands flew instantly up his skull, and it was like somebody had detonated a bomb and he had to deal with the fall out of it. Things...looked a little weird all of a sudden. He was quite sure he was cleaned the curtains this morning, and it just wouldn't make sense if there was all of a sudden bugs and snakes hanging about.

This was also Gotham. Any vermin, or pest was instantly wiped out. Or, at least he heard that, and someone mentioning a Bat. He doubts the Bat, because who in the right mind would just do justice like that?

The voice is louder this time.

" _Kill them._ "

"Who?" He wonders out loud. No one actually heard him, it came out almost like a rasp, paper, lost in the wind. He thinks he knows the answer, though. His parents has to die.

His steps felt unsteady as he walked up to the ropes that were meant to keep his family alive. He'd calculated everything. He wasn't performing tonight. Hand holding a knife, another, new voice said,

" _It'll all be over so quickly. So sharp, it wouldn't even hurt._ "

He held the knife and began wearing away the rope.

He watched in silent anticipation, as his family swung through the air, knowing what was coming for them.

Snap.

Bodies came tumbling down from the ground as he watches in sick facination. He'd seen his mother bleed before. It just a small cut from the kitchen knife, but from that he knew that blood was crimson. So why right now, everything looked so odd? Everything was so distorted, everything, everyone in the background turned a cyan-ish gray hue, while the blood glowed magenta pink. The people are gathering towards him, meaningless words that just wash out into the void. He turned and ran, because oh GOD! These people are gonna kill him now because he killed his parents. No, but then that wouldn't make sense, because he had planned out everything. No one would know. He still has that knife with his fingerprint. He has an alabi. 

He's okay, he's okay, he's gonna be okay.

Why did he do it?

To kill his parents? Family?

He had just murdered his own family.

00000000000

Dick's eyes snapped open as he had awoken from that strange dream ~~memory, his mind supplies, but he doesn't want to remember~~

On his phone was the date. Sunday. He's going to have to check on Damian. Tim, too.

"Tim."

Tim slowly turned at Dick, siping his coffee.

"Damian."

Tim immediatelly tenses up, any groggyness he had leaving him.

"Are you...?"

"Dead by the end of the weekend if he doesn't stop investigating."

Tim felt his own two eyes widen. But Dick would never-except, that was never really Dick was talking to them, wasn't it?

"Damian trusted you! How-how could you...?"

Dick's eyes narrow. "B's orders."

Tim was going to punch the wall. He really was, except that he was in Dick's appartment right now, and if he'd punch the wall, there'd be a huge risk on aggravating an emotionally unstable man. "Well-well what about you? What do YOU want Dick? Do you really want to kill Dami? Or Jason? Or, or even _me_ )?"

For the first time in Tim's life, Dick had looked unsure. His calm demeanor seemed to break and there was an odd silence between them.

"But, but Bruce tells me too. Isn't that what I'm suppose to do? What choice do I have?"

"Bruce's word isn't law Dick, and you know that! You, of all people, should know that!" Tim tried.

"But it is! He's-he's going to ask me to kill Damian, and-" Oh god, Dick is actually _crying_ ) right now. When he spoke again, his voice was strained. "I killed your parents. I killed them, I killed them. I killed mine. I almost killed you and now, Damian. All under Bruce's orders. What choice do I have?"

Tim felt white-hot anger and hurt shoot up from him, knowing his brother had just killed his parents, no, _had killed_ ) his parents. He wants so badly to just stop everything and tell Dick to shut the fuck up and end his misery. But he couldn't. Not now, not now. Not when there's a chance to save Damian. Not when there's still a chance to save Alfred, to save Jason. Tim took a deep breathe, and looked up at Dick.

"You're being dellusional Dick."

And then Dick had the actual audacity to _glare_ ) at him, claiming how he's _not_ ).

Ignoring how his hands shook, and how his eyes burned with un-released tears, he pressed the quick-dial button.

Wally picked up.


	3. The Alfred Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alfred, that's right he deserves a whole chapter to himself, also for character development.

Tim had disappeared from the Morgue. Alfred narrows his eyes, cogs slowly turning in his head. Obviously, this is the work of Dick, the boy has never really had a solid plan for anything. Perks of being schizophrenic, he supposes. Alfred wanders home.

He remembers when he first saw his Master Bruce take his first steps, to when Martha looked at him dead in the eye and made him vow to protect Bruce, no matter the cost. Alfred was trained after all. Dick was a hell hound, held tight by a muzzle and was always kept on a leash around Bruce. Alfred was a great dane that loyally sat besides Bruce since the very begining. Alfred is loyal to Bruce. Alfred is loyal to Bruce.

.

.

.

.

But what about Alfred himself?

The old butler shook his head, squashing the thought down.

Alfred is loyal. He thinks he does feel joy though, and before Bruce told him his plan to dispose of Dick before the boy had proven his use, Alfred had actually felt, something, an old feeling resurfaced when he saw Dick's first nights in the Manor. Before schizophrenia took over a huge part of his life, Dick was actually considered to be...quite adorable.

He stopped in front of Master Bruce's office. He held his knuckles on the door, ready to knock, then --

He hesitated.  
Anf for the first time on his years of service he felt a pang of fear in his heart standing in front of Bruce's office. This couldn't be. It couldn't. Alfred didn't grow to care for the boys. His only best interest is Bruce.

~~The first time Damian tasted ice cream, and how his eyes seemed to gleam with rare childhood innocence?~~

No.

~~Tim's first hug, embracing himself in Alfred's comforting arms?~~

No.

~~Jason, having to walk to the library with him for the first time, and that night a fine collection of Charles Dickens appeared on his desk?~~

No.

~~Dick, still young, presenting him with a strange photo with him serving tea to a bunch of squiggly monsters he had hallucinated, that he found oddly endearing?~~

No. No. No. ~~Yes.~~

He couldn't have cared for the boys. Bruce will kill them all anyways. ~~It would be such a shame~~

Alfred supposes though, that they _will_ die any ways. He just...maybe, maybe wants to _delay_ their inevidtable death. Yeah, that was it. Alfred decided to walk away and do his chores. 

Time is a fickle thing that goes by quickly. Alfred blinked, and then suddenly he was serving dinner to Bruce.

"Did everything go smoothly Alfred?" Bruce asked, concentrating on his plate. Alfred _lied_ ,

"As well as you'd expect it to go, Master Bruce." Bruce gave him a questioning look, and he felt fear flicker across his face. Forcing his expression to remain neutral, he continued,  
"Master Dick certainly needs to be more careful on doing his...murders it certainly is tiring, for such an old butler like me to clean up." He sighed. Bruce considered this and sighed.

"Dick really _is_ getting out of control, I just can't wait to get him out of the way..." Bruce mumbled in annoyance. Alfred felt his eyes narrow but decided not to comment. He left Bruce sitting on the table alone.

Certainly this will be interesting to watch. Oh well. He had a sick Jason too attend too. He ignored the tiny shard of guilt that lodged it's way into his inpenetratable heart that told him that he'd be watching Jason die slowly, slowly.

He's not guilty. He's not anything at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I haven't posted in a while, school, stuff, the usual. I'll do it whenever I can but I don't actally have an upload schedule.


	4. oh yeah back to Dick and his metal breakdown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What am I missing again? Oh yeah Dick and his uhhh-yeah.

"Yo, sup Timmers?" Wally bit down on his chilly dog and munched comtemply.

"It's Dick." Way to ruin a guy's apetite. Wally still wanted to finish it though, he slowly chewed on the bite,

"Uh huh...?"

Tim sighed in frustrated, running a hand through his hair.

"Wallace you dumb idiot! Dick is having one of his episodes again, and I'm not exactly in the right state to comfort him right now!" Wally went quiet at that.

Tim bit his lip nervously, ignoring how tears threatened to spill from his eyes. Dick meanwhile, is having a crisis on his own. Wally was already at the door before he had the chance to continue. Said man was holding a chilly dog, but all playful-ness gone from him. He looked worriedly at Dick, than back at Tim, unsure. Tim nodded, facing away and went inside of one of the few available rooms and locked himself in while Wally dealt with Dick.

"...Dickie?"

Dick looked up at him, blue eyes welling up with tears. The place and holes and crack in them, some, recent and Dick looked like he was at the brink of either rage or hyperventilation. His breaths came in quick, short bursts.

"W-Wally." He breathed, before collapsing himself into Wally. You know, Dick and Wally, they were something else. Dick liked Wally. Maybe the red hair gave him a warm, fuzzy feeling, but Wally never judged him. He never shuts him up when he talks too much, when he's being quote and quote, 'weird', and...yeah. He liked Wally. Wally was always there for him, even when he spills his deepest, darkest secrets to Wally, or even when the brief, true side of his nature shines through. 

Wally had bright emerald green eyes, like Little Wing did, but Wally's were like warm cookies his mom would bake for him, he loved the two green hues, and eached meant differently to him.

He stayed inside the embrace for a while, sobbing.

"I-I don't know what to do anymore, Wally...." He muffled into his friend's shoulder, tears bursting out.

"Well we'll think of that later Dick...are you alright?" Wally asked, looking at him. Dick shook his head, laughing a bit. It quickly fell into a grimace and he sighed.

"B, he, he wants me to kill lil'D and Tim, and-and Jason's dying.! And-and for so long I've been kiling under B's orders and now...and now I just feel so...lost..."

He stared out into what seems to nothing. Wally still gripped him tight, despite it all, and he just feels...he just feels like he doesn't deserve it. It's just suddenly wrong to him now and he had no idea why he thought he was right or how he took pleasure in it in the first place. And he-

"Dick. Look at me." Wally gripped him by the shoulders, forcing him to stare. Dick looked slowly and it felt agonizing to stare into the heartbroken expression on his best friend. Wally said again, harder.

"Dick, look at me!" Dick looked.

"You might not believe this but...I think you're sick." At the alarmed look on his friend's face he quickly corrects himself.

"No! Not like that! As in, as in when you get fevers and needed medicine. I want to help you get better Dick, believe me I do. But you have to let us. You can't just think nothing is wrong with you, because deep inside? You know that something is wrong."

Dick thinks. Maybe something IS wrong with him. Maybe...maybe there is no person there talking to him. Maybe, maybe the rats weren't real and the colors weren't real, and, and this person he's been living as...isn't real. He looks at Wally and slowly, agonizingly slowly, he nods. It's small and timid, but it's there. Wally smiles and Dick smiles too, inspite of himself. 

"Am I...?" He makes a vague hand gesture around his head and Wally giggles, warms sounds filling his heart. 

"I dunno. Does anything look weird? Strange bursts of rage? Murderous intent to kill me?"

"Just answer the question!" Dick snapped before gasping and shoving his hand on to his mouth. That came from nowhere. A flash of hut went across Wally's face as he mumbles a half hearted apology, and it makes Dick's guilt multiply. A sudden spews of appologies rushed from his mouth, and he doesn't realize he's blabbering until Wally calls out for him again.

"It's alright, it's alright, okay Dick?"

Dick looks at him again, and his face screamed everything that doubts that statment.

But what if it's not? What if you're just lying like everyone else, like Bruce, like everyone I've ever trusted?

Wally looks unsure, well, he is.

"Listen, Dick. I'm not the best person to help you right now. I'm not a proffesional, and I don't know what the right words are to help you feel better. So, so that's why you need to get help. From an actual proffesional."

Dick looks at him skeptically and shakes his head tiredly. He looks up, expected to see disappointment, but instead he saw understanding in Wally's eyes.

"Well, you're still gonna get help, aren't you?"

Dick nods, and Wally's smile only widens.

"We're gonna take this slowly, one step at a time Dick, and by the time we get there? You'd be in a much better place. Okay?" Dick nods again, unsure. He looks in the bedroom again, were Tim resides and hesitantly walks to the door.

He knocks and wait, anxiously. Tim opens the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it takes me long to update these things, but I needed time to think of ideas n stuff


	5. A conversation long overdue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dick and Tim's talk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry I couldn't update things frequently, but I felt like it would feel too rushed if I just spit out the first thing that comes to my mind and then cringe about it a few hours later.

Dick closed the door with a click and turned towards Tim. Tim sighs, running a hand through his hair tiredly. He sees Dick, and even if he didn't, he might as well sigh again.

"Hey, Dick."

"Hey." Dick said. He was lost, and unsure of himself or how to approach the situation.

"So." He sat on the floor.

"So." Tim echoes.

"I killed your parents," Dick said. He tenses up, expecting some sort of insult, beating, punishment, because he killed Tim's parents. And-and he knows, that children need their parents, and children and parents love each other very much.

"Yeah," Tim says hollowly, "Yeah, you did."

"I'm sorry-

"Sorry doesn't cut it, Dick!" 

There it was, the unexpected burst of emotions, emotions Dick struggled to understand. He opened his mouth and tries to say something, anything, as he tries to comfort is grieving brother. 

Of course, it had been long since Tim moved on from the death of his parents, but, but now that he knew that he had been living under the same roof as the killer of his parents, hugged him, god, even loved him, it made all the scars open up and bleed. It was sick, and twisted. Their family was sick and twisted. None of it was real, and Tim can't help but feel used.

"You-you lied to me, to Dami, hell, to your 'Little Wing'- Dick flinches, "to everyone! You- My- my parents could've lived a long and healthy life if it weren't for you!" Dick's look almost made it all worth it, and yet Tim feels cruel seeing how utterly heart broken his brother's face is. Tim sits on the floor with Dick, and they stayed silent.

"What did...? Nevermind, it's stupid. You won't care."

"What did what?" Dick stares at him, curiously. Tim took all his willpower to not deck Dick in the face for being so ignorant, because he had to remind himself that Dick was mentally unstable, and living with a sociopathic billionare never taught him to think for others and how they feel. Dick still notices the faint tremor in Tim's hands though.

"What did...my parent's say? What were their last words, before they died?"

Dick was silent for a while, thinking. He wracked his brain and tries to think of a way to handle this.

"Which one do you want to hear about first?" He asks quietly, not daring to glance over to Tim. He's made a mistake, a mistake, a mistake-

"My father."

Dick took a deep breath and remembered, shuddering at the memory.

"He begged, at first. For time, for his family's life, and his wife's life, for his wife...and then...it was acceptence. He looked at me, and begged for it to be swift. He begged to make it swift for him and his wife, and for you. I gave them both a quick death." He bit his lip nervously, debating wether or not to continue. Finally, "Then, I had an episode and toyed around with their remains." Tim shudders and Dick chuckles. "B wasn't happy."

"My...my mother?" Tim gulps. 

Tim always loved to play chest and debate ideas, and theories with his father...but mother will always have a special place in his heart. Soft quiet whispers of 'Goodnight', hugs when his nightmares don't go, and sneaky snuggles whenever he pulled an all-nighter. It was rare, but it was there. He was at least glad that in their death it was quick and they didn't suffer. He was scared for this. What if...what if his mother said something meaningless, and he'd be dissapointed, so disapointed and betrayed that..that she never thought of him at all? Or, or what if she said something meaningful, then everything would be lit on fire all over again?

Dick answers, "She...she never once begged for her life. Every momment I was in that house, she begged for yours. She begged me to spare you, to spare my brother, to spare her son. And, I don't think it was meant for me but... she told you to be strong in her final momments." While bleeding onto the carpet, he doesn't say.

"Heh, he chuckles, "I guess I didn't break her promise after all."

"Was that why...?"

"No." Dick said, Tim flinches this time, "I wasn't going to do all this for something as ridiculous as a promise, no, no." He continues quietly, "It was something else."

Tim wipes his face and sees it smudged in snot and tears. Dick continues to sit in silence as Tim's body wracked with sobs, echoing across the room. He made no move to comfort the raven-haired boy.

Everything eventually disolved into silence. It wasn't suffocating, no. It was just...there. Lingering.

.

.

.

.

"Does that mean I'll have to drink pills now?"

And despite himself Tim laughs. He laughs at how hysterical it was. It was so serious and sombre and then Dick suddenly asks about pills.

"No! I mean yes! Of course you'll have to, but I have other concerns right now." Dick shrinks back and Tim exhales. Finally, Tim talks again,

"You're not gonna kill Damian."

Dick shrinks back even more. He sort-of whines, "But Bruce-"

"Are we seriously gonna have this conversation again?"

"No! I mean as in Bruce is gonna be there when I kill Dami!" Dick says shrilly.

Tim lasped into silence as he thinks. "Well...do that same trick we did with me but with Damian." Dick still looked unsure. "No, no, that won't do...we need a better plan."

"Well-I don't see you making any suggestions or plans!" Tim splutters.

"I have a plan."

"I'm interested."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alright now for me to actually think of the plan for the plot

**Author's Note:**

> I...will try and keep this in the same dark tone as the original. Keyword:Try, I might fail.
> 
> Please be nice.


End file.
